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2019.02.10 - Into the Mists
|location= Seattle, WA |time= January 4th, Year Unknown; Afternoon |emitter= Staff |players= |npcs= Cultists, "Thin Ones" Monsters |factions= |music= NRG, "Instruments of Destruction" and Stan Bush, "The Touch" }} They came to Seattle in pursuit of an artifact known as the Shattered Mirror. On their way through the strange, eerie landscape, the mysterious lack of people... and the strange, massive shapes in the depths of the thick, otherworldly mist that had descended upon the city. The seekers found an unexpected haven at the Space Needle, occupied by Riley Biers and his group of newborn vampires who had been fighting to keep a safe base of operations there. The witches, under the lead of Myrtle Snow, opened a magic mirror portal back to Rowanwood, allowing some to travel back and forth between the two locations. Jason Christopher Lupus had made it a point to conference with Riley about their next steps, while Kiara Kruger led raids on nearby unused buildings, gathering fuel and supplies to help shore up their position at the space needle. Others began to patrol and seek out information about the area, and this led to a revelation. The mists were literally not of this world. They, and whatever came with them, were being pulled through portals, created by cultists casing dark rituals to literally pull energies from the Outside into the city. If the heroes could seal those portals, then they could easily clear a path to Curious Goods where, according to Sly, they would find Micki and the others, who would be able to give them access to the mirror, which would in turn aid them in restoring balance to the fragmented reality. Now, the group has girded themselves and set forth into the mist once again. Riley's forces are defending the Space Needle in case of retaliation, but if the seekers can prove the theory, can blaze a trail ahead, then the vampires can begin to cleanse the city, and the way forward will be open.... Leading in any capacity comes easy to Derek Hale at this point. His senses pricked to their utmost, he takes in every detail about their surroundings that he can...which isn't pleasant, due to the corrupting influence affecting the world right now. But as always, the alpha must do what the alpha must do; it has been set at his feet, and he must protect not only his pack, but their allies too. He glances back and gestures with a jerk of the head, walking on before them and keeping himself careful. If there's movement, he will detect it. If there's a presence, he's sure to pick it up. Even with the hulking monstrosities shuffling on the edge of view, he's learned to tune in on the more direct threat. The days spent with Riley and his group were not wasted. They never are, with Derek. Jason Christopher has spent the time since the discovery of exactly what it was in the mists preparing for a fight. With access to vampire venom, he has crafted the poison he regularly coats weapons with. If they are dealing with cultists, they may have magic. Debilitating them quickly and efficiently will be key in his mind. Ordinarily, he would just kill them, but he has learned that some parties take a dim view of that. So, at least a nominal attempt at avoiding that, for team unity, seemed prudent. But the venom coated shuriken would accomplish a similar task. Others might be about the fight, but he had no interest in fighting for a fights sake. Just in removing obstacles between him and a goal. Jason materializes not far from Derek Hale and nods to him. He gestures ahead of them, silently indicating they were close to one of the areas of cultist activity now. Having used his nightstalking to survey, silently holds up both hands, and then two fingers. A dozen cultists. Jacob Black phases to his wolf form. Jacob, knowing that Jason would be scouting and that Derek would lead, has positioned himself at Derek's shoulder, showing that once again, while Jacob can lead if he must, he's also very good at playing the second to someone else, falling easily into a supportive role. In many ways, despite having been born to be an alpha, he finds the supporting role easier. At present, he's in his massive wolf phase, trotting alongside the others and keeping his senses keen and alert. When Jason returns from scouting to indicate the numbers, Jacob's ears twitch, and he clearly looks ready to pounce. Those are the bad guys. He really hates bad guys. Sly, for his part, is somewhere nearby... but he's also vanished and, as he'd promised his father, is staying well clear of any danger. For the moment, his big contribution is to serve as an extra set of eyes and ears and, of course, to carry Jacob's stuff. Because otherwise, when Jacob phases back, Sly will have to endure his not-stepfather-thank-you being gratuitously naked again. Since this all began and Brock saw those things in the mist, the great king has wanted to get at them, which would be ridiculous right? They're huge! But that's Brock, as fearless and sometimes reckless when it comes to the fight. This whole trip though, he's been a bit anxious and has been kinda here and there, paying attention but only in his special kinda way. The arrival of LJ however sparked a bit of attentiveness in him because he can let LJ soak up the important details and make sense of it and he doesn't have to do all of the planning. Thank god! But also, he hasn't been able to stop messing with the smaller man. Even now, in the face of danger, Brock reaches over to flick LJ's ear back and forth like a kid with ADHD, smirking. Brock is that person that people often have to shout 'pay attention!' to. But one shouldn't think he isn't ready. The lion is quite ready at a moment's notice. He just can't not try for a reaction out of the calmer man as phasing happens. Having arrived later than the rest, LJ had taken his time getting up to speed, bringing with him his journal, and noting pertinent information as every good archivist should! With his senses tuned as sharp as they are, he's taking quite a few notes at that, noting perturbations and changes in the environment others like are not. That is, when he has the opportunity to concentrate, and his larger, lion companion isn't being a cattish brat. "Must you?" He says at least once in his Scottish brogue, swatting Brock's big hand away and looking exceptionally peeved. Even so, and likewise, his senses are tuned. Following the others, Darius is quiet and attentive, but he is keenly aware of his deficiencies and so doesn't exactly strain himself to notice every covert motion in the mists. Instead, he is his usual attentive self to things like the presence of weapons, though he doesn't expect any, and otherwise just sort of girds himself for the potential attack he expects may come at any moment. The rest of his senses are dedicated to paying attention to the cues of the werewolves. Kiara was following the group silently from her position just after the mid of the column, the Mauser resting in the bow of her arm, loaded but with engaged safety. Her eyes ran over the facades of the buildings they passed, her nostrils flared as she watched for signs of any enemy approaching or waiting. Her boots hit the asphalt in a trained way to muffle them. Not to silence, just a little below the noise of the other's shoes. The raids had secured basic materials to the base at the needle, and tools to secure it. She had helped to erect barricades. But that had left her with little time to prepare her own pack better than when she had arrived. But then again, she was armed... and actually didn't need the gun to kill. It was for the distance mainly. As Jason gives hand signs about the size of the group, Kiara lifts her left, showing a fist. The good old stop in a march, or rather the reply that you saw the halt signal. With a quick gesture back to Jason, she tried to ask for the heading of the cultists and a rough distance. As she waits for the answer, she slowly changes the grip on the rifle from just hanging it over the arm to properly grabbing it, her eyes though on the scout's hands. In a little afterthought, she then gestures to her knee and tapped the rifle. She knew the others might not like killing, even if she had not too many qualms to down an enemy. But she could kneecap them instead. Jason is able to point the others to the location of the cultists, who are quite nearby--only a block or two away. The cultists aren't being all that subtle. They have a twenty foot summoning circle dug into the ground in a vacant lot, and they've fed it, seemingly with a mixture including their own blood, to activate and fuel the ritual. They still stand there, hands upraised, while humming in an eerie, multi-tonal way... like the unholy inverse of a Gregorian chant. Their robes fall to their elbows, revealing the bloody sigils carved into their arms--no doubt, thus the blood. The symbols themselves seem to defy the eye, as though writhing and unable to be read clearly, perhaps simply too alien for a stable mind to make any sense of them. What is clear is that they area alien, corrupt, wrong. The senses themselves rebel at those sigils, as much as as the unsettling mist, itself. Speaking of the mist, as the seekers draw near, it suddenly seems to thicken, hiding the cultists from view, and then a series of creatures just... emerges from it. Lanky, rubbery, emaciated, hey resemble something like a cross between the war form of a shifter, not unlike a werewolf's man-wolf shape, but crossed with some kind of gray alien. They have mouths but no eyes, their sinewy arms ending in clawed, three-digited hands, much like the feet of their reverse-jointed legs. Initially, there are a dozen of the creatures--presumably, one per cultist--and they turn toward the approaching seekers, baring their fangs, and let out hissing roars that, while completely silent, can nonetheless be felt, like a sickening pang in the stomach, despite not being heard. Four of the creatures hang back, placing themselves between the seekers and the cultists, forming a defensive second line. The others begin to lope forward, each selecting one of the seekers, and bear down to attack! Derek Hale phases to his wolfman form. Derek doesn't bother to try and read the symbols. He knows better than to look at them or try to make sense of them, and he assumes that everyone else will at least be cautious enough to avoid these same things. But as they're suddenly confronted by further abominations, Derek comes to a complete stop and sizes up the situation. Okay, he thinks. Derek's stomach is turning upon the very sight of the things, but he has a job to do and he intends to do it. With a thought, his body shifts, his eyes gleaming, and he flexes his muscles, flicking his claws out. Lifting his head, he lets out a rumbled growl before rushing to engage the first wave. Jason Christopher looks to Jacob after explaining to the gathered team the heading and distance to their target. He glances around, and one could easily guess he was seeking his son. Content that he is present he glances sharply at Brock and LJ, wanting them to be quiet. The murk seemed to deaden sound for them, but there was no telling if their enemy was so afflicted. Jason considered and distantly believed he recognized LJ actually. He never forgot anything as an immortal, and the half memories of people were particularly annoying. No enough to make him remotely loose his composure, but certainly annoying none the less. As they approach and the cultists summon things from the rift before them, Jason snarls inwardly. This was in no small measure what he'd hoped to avoid, a fight. Nor was he going to inclined to cloak himself with his mate and son present. He starts to move, and phase simultaneously. With a thwipping noise he throws three venom coated shuriken with deadly accuracy at the cultists, seeking to winnow their numbers. Before the shuriken come close to their targets, he has phased to his massive man-wolf phase. Roaring and loping at the oncoming enemy. Flickering in and out of view to disorient them, as if he was viewed through a strobe light. Jacob attends to Jason's instructions, but he's also paying close attention to their environment--so, when the monsters appear, he's quick to bare his fangs, snarl, and leap into the fray. His instinct is to go for the throat, but he somehow feels that it might be bad to bite these disgusting things, so instead he slashes his clawed forepaws at the nearest of the attackers, attempting to knock it back and, if he can, tear it open. It won't be pretty, presumably, if he connects, but these are things that should not be. They are not afforded the mercies that living creatures of this reality would be given. And Sly? He stays well clear, shuddering invisibly at the horror unfolding before him. He's tempted to try to help... but he promised, and he doesn't want to distract his father by making him worry. So he stays well out of the way. Mere walks with the others through Seattle, and nods a bit while he shifts both hands as he keeps chanting. "I'll keep some of my magic with you, so that you will be able to keep safe while you explore," he says. It may not look like it, but Brock in all of his pestering and poking at LJ is for the most part hovering about him; over him. His annoyance is just a byproduct of his animalistic instincts. Once second he's over on this side of LJ, then the other, and then another while he's poking. He's covering all sides, making sure he can be in one space at any point in time. But then there is a sudden shift within him, and about him. As close as LJ is, it's palpable for him enough to feel. It's an aura of intense calm, then a quick and rumbling bout of intense ferocity that starts to direct toward the assaulting enemy. He takes a single step which puts him in front of the panther. His body grows suddenly and he sprouts fur and gets several feet tall, like scaling over 10 feet as his leonine side bursts forward, a mass of fur and muscle. With a massive thrust of a fist into the ground and a feral roar, Brock leaps into the battle, toward the oncomers. Jason Christopher phases to his man-wolf form. Brock Bryant phases to his lionman form. Accustomed to darkness and otherworldly horrors in an academic sense, LJ isn't terrified so much as visiting a place between concerned and intrigued. Noting Jason's look, he frowns, stowing his journal, and making with the long-suffering sigh at Brock's constant poking, but he otherwise appears to tolerate it. In his way, he seems to understand the lion is just being protective. As the full-frontal approach has never been his way, he waits for the initial assault to begin, Brock stepping in front of him. He says something to alert the lion before summoning his own inner darkness to manipulate the abundant shadows present and visibly obscure his form. With his exceptional speed and subterfuge, he then attempts to quietly (and quickly) slip behind the enemy lines to deal with the ritual and the cultists directly. Hopefully he could determine the nature and the weakness of the ritual, but if not, he had claws, and few issues ending a cultist or two if necessary. Reaching into a pocket at the first hint that something is awry, or perhaps at first sighting of the cultists, Darius produces a handful of quarters from his pocket and lets them bounce in the palm of his hand a few times. Shifting the pile of quarters from his right to his left, he neatly exchanges a single quarter and lets it fly with tremendous speed. Aiming for the heads of the cultists as he starts rifling off sideways throws. Advancing forward as he throws, preparing to meet their summoned minions in close-quarters combat. "Go for the clothies if you get an opening," he mentions as he falls into his battle rhythm. Kiara nods at the indications by their leader, making herself ready to move out to a firing position, but even before she has done so far as two steps towards what might be the best place to rest and take a well-aimed shot at a knee or two, the lanky ones appear. A moment the muscles of the woman go tense, in the next she seems blurred, catapulting herself barely past the one assaulting her, evading his swing with the speed of a strong breeze. But without turning around, the butt stock of her rifle accelerates to strike at its back, Kiara just waiting for the moment it connects to dart onwards, towards the cultists. They're the priority target anyway. Not a subtle move for the cultist, actually rather bold. Merek's shield seems to push back some of the mist and offers the seekers a bit more physical and mystic durability than normal, but magic is always questionable when used against the Outsiders, so it's uncertain how well this will hold up in the long run.... Derek meets the first of the thin ones head on, finding that his claws slice it easily--but that its flesh seals back together again just as easily, seeming to harm it about as much as slicing water would do. It just joins right back together again, afterward, and then it seems to try to wrap itself around Derek, letting out another silent scream, and then tries to find purchase with its sharp, withered fangs, which give off a smell that is anything but wholesome.... Jason finds himself able to flicker past the thin one that charges him, but while it does not seem able to easily follow his movements, it does move as he moves, perhaps more easily noticing his lack than simply tracking him. Regardless, the thing is nimble enough to turn a kind of flip, loping after him with hardly any ground lost, and then leaps at him, leading with its horrifying mouth.... Jacob knocks back the thin one that he pounces, but as with Derek, his claws seem to have little effect. The creature staggers, then rakes its claws at the giant wolf, seemingly trying to flay him if he can't bite him! Brock finds himself doubled up on, as LJ slips away, so two of the creatures leap toward him, fangs and claws exposed, with the apparent strategy of just scaling him and latching on, perhaps with intent to then try to just tear him bodily apart! Darius' projectile flies swift and true, but rather than striking a cultist, it sticks in the forehead of one of the second line of thin ones. The coin embeds deeply, leaving a kind of crater in its flesh, but only for an instant. A second later, the coin drops harmlessly to the ground, and the divot in its head is gone... but where its flesh was smooth and pale before, now it appears dark and blotchy. While these things are clearly very resistant to damage, it seems that they are not by any means impossible to harm.... The butt of Kiara's rifle sends the thin one stumbling, but it rolls with it, coming up in a reverse leap, slashing at her with the claws of its feet and hardly seeming to have lost any momentum at all! As for LJ, when he draws near, he'll find that, while the specific sigils and magics of the ritual are quite alien and bizarre, the basic principles are fairly clear. They're funneling power into the circle, which is then bound to their physical bodies. They are, essentially, batteries to power its magic. If he can break that connection, the circle will break, lacking anything else to power it. This knowledge is complicated, however, when there's a sudden sound like the most unholy, twisted echo of thunder that the gods themselves could ever have dreaded. A shape--not unlike a tentacle, but the size of a mighty redwood--erupts from the circle, lancing up into the sky and beginning to flail around, above the seekers and cultists. The exact appearance of the thing is uncertain, as the eye refuses to see it, just sliding past uncomfortably, so they less see the tendril... and more perceive it, based on the negative space around it. But it's big, and it's even more wrong then the rest of the creatures and the mist, itself. This must be what one small part of a greater Outsider looks like, akin to a swimmer testing the waters of a pool with one toe.... Oh, those fangs are not piercing Derek's skin. They're not even getting the opportunity. He may seem like a wall of muscle, or some stone that's unyielding and stiff, but the alpha moves like any natural animal in its element. He knows this is down to him to do, because if he can't do it, then he'll have to rely on someone else who might get seriously injured. Muscles pulsing, Derek flips, turns, slashes, and roars, unsure if the Alpha Voice will do anything or have any effect on these creatures. At the very least, maybe it will throw them off for long enough that he can redouble his efforts and use his gathered strength to hit them hard...which he intends to do, once he's got a moment to catch his breath. Jason Christopher is very well versed in a number of hand to hand combat techniques, and feels no need to hold back on these creatures. They are the very antithesis of the natural world he is so connected to, and thunder rubles above to note his ire. As the thin thing lunges forward Jason spins like a dancer, fluidly around it. Phasing into wolf form to dodge under and around it, and then back to man-wolf immediately behind it. Dagger like claws seeking to tear the abomination's head off at the neck. Before he backflip away, phasing briefly to human to avoid any ranged attacks from his comrades. Landing a dozen or so feet away in man-wolf phase once more. His form blurring with just how quickly he is able to shift, the strobe like effect he is using from his nightstalking ability making it harder still to follow. Yes, Jason can drag out his phases, which is often useful. Using it to shatter weaker minds and make them think they had seen something, anything, other than the truth. Like a baby bear perhaps. But in this instance, speed was essential. These things were between him and his goal, and Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus did not like to fight. But he damn well could when it was necessary. The sky starts to flicker with lightning in the clouds far above. Jacob is forced to perform an awkward move, desperate to avoid those claws, and twists his body in the air, landing hard on his back and rolling to one side. He kicks out with his rear legs, hard enough to splinter wood and perhaps even crack stone, aiming for one of those reverse-jointed legs. If he can knock it forward and get it on the ground, perhaps then he can find a way to get it to stay down, but first he's got to actually put it down, preferably without letting it hurt him. If what they saw with Aiden's wounds in the first battle is any indication, then these things might be severely poisonous. Sly remains well out of it. 'Bring it on!' That is what Brock's Roar can be interpreted as. And he has two of them jump to pursue him. Only two?! The golden champion bounds on all fours and crouches as the pair come to make their lunge. Both of his clawed hamfists come together, and start low on the ground. His thick arms tighten and they drag up and swing powerfully like a huge hammer, swiping at one of his assailants with all of his mighty strength, to either send it ragdolling far far away, or outright pulverizing it with his supernatural might. Momentarily fascinated by the sheer alienness of the ritual and the beast it is summoning (he'd love to take time to study it!), LJ focuses himself and quickly considers his options. Loathe to start shedding cultist blood that may very well just empower the beast more quickly, he determines to focus on trying to interrupt the mystical connection feeding it, instead. With a few arcane gestures, he summons several tendrils of living shadows to trip and/or entangle the cultists nearest to him so they lose their focus; meanwhile, he slips closer to the ritual circle to see what he can do about interrupting the greater channeling. If he were lucky, it would be as simple as smudging a few runes or something similar. If he is less lucky, ritual counterspelling may be in order, which would be certain to present him as an unfortunate objection of attention. Dropping the pile of coins into his pocket as he is forced to reckon with them in close quarters combat, Darius cracks his knuckles and goes to war. Exchanging blows as necessary, he proceeds through a series of movements that are best reflections of a combination of Aikido, Judo and Krav Maga or perhaps some sort of derivation or predecessor of them. Aesir martial arts. Some blurred speed distillation of expert hand to hand combat, all to get him to a very specific position so that he can wrap his hands around the neck of the creature without taking unnecessary claw strikes to his sweet jacket and rip its head off. "I forgot my bucket back at the estate," he says to the creature. "Sorry." Kiara doesn't seem to care for the lean one trailing her, her feet biting the dirt as she zooms past the landscape like the wind, spots appearing on her skin, the fingers clenching around the rifle as she mounts the bayonet. She makes a sharp turn around a corner, then another to get back to the direction of the cultists, only to take the next corner again to get back to the street they had approached on as a group, just down some good chunk of the distance to the cultists. In the full run, she catapults herself off the gound just enough to spin her body by 180 degrees, the Mauser gets pushed forward as her feet touch the ground again, breaking her speed fast. She's turning the pursuer's speed against him, trying to impale him on the mounted bayonet, one black clawed finger on the trigger to release a bullet into the thing the moment the blade makes contact. Kiara phases to her Catgirl form. Derek's claws again seem to do little harm, but the creature snarls and hisses silently at his Alpha Voice, staggering back from the blow from his hand, even if the claws themselves did nothing. Even so, the distinct and powerful voice of the alpha of the Hale line indicates some significant effect on the creatures! They seem to hate it! Jason finds that his brute strength is far more effective than his projectiles, which seemingly met the same fate as Darius'. However, wrenching off the creature's head after the feint proves effective! The head goes spinning away to land somewhere in the mists! Unfortunately, the body continues to berserker-rage after him, seemingly unhindered save for now lacking jaws and teeth. The lack of eyes, it seems, may be indicative of a decentralized nervous and sensory apparatus? Jacob successfully reverses the creature's knee, but the thin one just... reverses its knee fluidly, spins on it, and then leaps after him, letting out another silent snarl as it tries once again to bring its claws to bear on the wolf-shifter. Brock's roar, perhaps not quite the same in this case as an alpha voice, does not seem to have special effect... but when he bats the thin one with both hands, it goes launching through the air, limbs pinwheeling, to sail up, up, and away--for the moment, at least, well out of the fight. The other one, however, seems to cling to him like a monkey climbing a tree, and tries to wrap two of its limbs around his throat! Darius finds that his hammer-blows drive the creature back, dark bruises instantly blooming on its pallid flesh, which seems to knock it off-balance, rendering it unable to counter attack. Less encouragingly, when he grips its head like that, it just sort of... stretches, like taffy being pulled, until the head comes off and flops uselessly away. As in Jason's case, though, this does not seem to do particularly much to discourage the creature. Kiara's clever high-speed maneuvering works like a charm, in that the creature charges after her wildly and runs itself right up the length of the rifle... but, as with the werewolf's claws, bullet and bayonet alike seem to pass through it with all the harm of shooting a pool of water. On the other hand, now she has a rifle embedded in its torso, which... probably stands to prove some kind of useful? Though it's also now trying to rake her with its claws, not hesitating to impale itself farther on the rifle to get at her! As for LJ, his shadow tendrils easily entangle the cultists, but they hardly seem to notice. It seems they've already given their lives over to their perverse ritual. The circle itself, though, does still look like it adheres to the fundamentals of most magic circles. This is blood magic of the dirtiest kind, though, and to break the circle (and thus disrupt the spell) it seems that he will have to staunch the flow of blood, which still continues to run from the wounds on the cultists, even streaming through the air in open defiance of physics, just so it can join the pooling blood in the furrow of the circle. Derek keeps moving, trusting in the others to have theirs sorted. Most of them, he knows, will be able to account for themselves. But as for the alpha, he roars again, bellowing at his opponents and then just leaping at them, intent on tearing through them as he's seen work for the others. He won't stop where some might have, though--the head will go, and so will everything else he can get off them! This calls for total destruction! Jason Christopher pays close attention to the ebb and flow of combat, cooly accessing how everyone is faring. He dodges the next attack of his now headless enemy, snarling in annoyance. Decapitation was usually effective, bastards. He notices Jacob, and has every confidence in his skills. Just the same he moves closer towards him, dodging around the headless monstrosity to do so before trying another tactic. Leaping high into the air, some 40 plus feet. Jason chants under his breath guttural words which rise in volume as he ascends. Speaking to nature itself, echoing words that seem to slip like quicksilver from the mind. He raises his arms, seeming to pause a moment in mid-air, before throwing them back down decisively. Lightning forks down from the sky, seeking to smite the miserable abominations from on high! He lands again, already back in Man-Wolf phase. Jacob dives between the lanky creature's legs. While he's far from small enough to fit under there, his aim is clearly to get his head and shoulders under it, then buck it wildly into the air, much like Brock's sledgehammer punch seemed to knock one of them sailing far away. Completing the maneuver, he whirls around and lets out a snarl and a howl, clearly growing increasingly angry at facing such foes! Sly is unseen, but one might possibly hear him shout, "Hell, yeah!" when Jason calls down the lightning. Jacob Black lets out a piercing howl. Ridding himself for now of one target, Brock has another one that he must deal with in sequence. This one he can feel trying to climb and get a hold of him. Brock seems much more annoyed than anything else, and he has not utilized his alpha presence as of yet, as it seems he is more interested in the fray. He lifts a hand and extends his fingers, letting sharp claws extend, Brock slaps his hand back behind him, reaching to palm the face of the attacker getting all upon him. It isn't to pluck or pull it off per se, Brock actually utilizes those claws to try an grip and squeeze the creature's face, to dig right in and take a fist full of whatever flesh is attached to it, and take the full front of it's skull with it. LJ is not delighted by this revelation. Not at all. He is familiar with blood magic, as he is familiar with many dark magics, but it is unlikely he would be able to weave a ritual spell of sufficient magnitude (and in sufficient time) to draw the blood away from the existing magic circle entirely. And even if he could, the idea of being a nexus of blood magic on his own with nowhere to direct it was not an especially appealing one. The man is forced to tactically calculate. Would his own magic be powerful enough to manifest enough physical shadow to obstruct the blood drain of so many cultists? Unlikely. At least, not without drawing more deeply from himself than he thought would be wise. But then again, he here is surrounded by living batteries of mystical energy. And the alternative was a potential otherworldly terror entering the world. Ugh. None of his options are good. Breathing out slowly, LJ pushes the doubts from his mind and recalls his understanding of blood magic. Releasing a claw from his finger, he quickly carves a number of runes on his arms different from those on the cultists--these are runes of taking, not runes of giving. And then, he focuses, drawing from the ambient mystical energies of the existing blood to empower his own magic, urging his tendrils of shadows to widen and encompass, sealing and surrounding to cocoon the cultists and keep their blood contained. Should this be effective on one cultist, he will then move to another, and another. Maintaining them as long as he can. When the head stretches away from the creature's body like Laffy-Taffy, Darius makes a sort of 'oh gross' sound, but keeps it mostly to himself. Never breaking from the rhythm, he continues to make an anatomical examination amid his flurry of movements. Rapidly exchanging blows with the full force of his strength to keep it from gaining a meaningful position from which to attack him in reply. With each attack he seems to be considering his options and once he has unbalanced his opponent again, he dips ever so slightly for optimal positioning, and knife-hands his hand under the ribs of the creature. Aiming for the heart, curious how it'd function lacking a heart, and once he has it in hand, he'll yank it out the through the chest.. If it has a heart at all, that is. Kiara growls as the the thing does rake for her, lifting her foot to kick against its chest as she pulls the rifle from the beast. Just a quick one to try to free the rifle as she changes the style from deep stabs to raking claws... Derek's claws aren't doing the damage. It's pure, blunt trauma from his fists that's having the impact! Where his hands strike, the pale, thin one's flesh erupts in black blotches, quivering and seeming to soften. It reels drunkenly, clawing at him in wild swipes, even as the hole left of its neck just closes up, like clay mashing back together--but it seems less coordinated, somehow, as if something Derek did has put it off-balance. Jason's stunt is no doubt awe-inspiring to behold for anyone who finds the elements of nature hold a certain power and wonder. Alas, the lightning strikes... and seems to accomplish little beyond scorching it and pissing it off further. It scrambles toward him, all claws and outrage, seeming, if anything, faster than before! Jacob's maneuver knocks the thin one he's been facing away, but it likely won't be gone long. The one Brock knocked even farther away is already visible in the distance, drawing close again at considerable speed! Brock, meanwhile, peels the thin one's face like a grape, popping it off and... finding that, much like the others, it might as well be a taffy pull. The face squishes off, sloughing away like mud in a rainstorm, and leaves a malformed lump where its head was. This, however, seems to do nothing at all to slow it down, save for removing its mouth and ability to bite. Managing to get one rubbery leg around Brock's neck, it starts trying to compress it, squeezing him like a python around its prey! The good news is, Darius is strong enough to drive his hand into the thin one like it was, in fact, so much taffy. The less ideal news is, it doesn't seem to have a heart or, indeed, any internal organs at all. Inside, it's all just that same stretchy, goopy... stuff, like some kind of obscene flesh golem, perhaps. And now he has his fist and forearm buried in its torso, but he'd better act fast, before it brings those toxic claws to bear on his skin! The good news is, LJ's maneuver contains the blood flowing from the nearest cultist. Less ideally, this doesn't seem to be very effective... but what is effective is when LJ begins to draw the corrupted blood into himself. In fact, it's far, far too effective. Instantly, LJ will sense that his act should have killed him almost instantly. The blood flows from the circle as though it were pure iron and his body an enormous magnet. The poisonous substance flows into him, corrupting his flesh, and he finds his body warping, twisting, as his form is replaced with Outsider un-matter. It feels quite a bit like every cell in his body exploding in slow motion, filling him with pure, toxic darkness. And then, over by the summoning circle, it looks rather like a small nuclear blast tears through the circle, the cultists, and LJ himself, a bubble of pure unbeing ripping through the area. LJ's power seems to contain the blast along with the blood, as if he'd just personally jumped on the most dangerous grenade ever conceived, shielding the others.... Derek absolutely presses his advantage. He quickly picks up on the effects his attacks have, and he keeps up the things that seem to be working. LJ gets notice from what happens with his engagement, and it distracts Derek, though not crucially. His fight may not be as exciting as the others', but that's something he can use to his advantage. This has gone on long enough; he needs to finish up and go to the assistance of his ally. So Derek cranks it up a notch and starts swinging his fists with an occasional shout of punctuation. Jason Christopher surveys the situation again, and recognizes that the appearance of that massive tendril of the Outside does not bode well for any of them. He dodges back away from his attacker's claws again, growling. These abominations were proof against everything they seemed to bring to bear! Well, nearly at least. Derek had unleashed his alpha roar, and it seemed to have an impact. As does the sheer physical impacts against them. Jason looks as Jacob, his mate howls. He was having trouble with these things, and it made Jason's blood boil within him. Then he heard Sly, his son, cheer him on. His SON was here, his child was here and it was because he brought him. His name is Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus. Werewolf Lord of the Children of the Moon, and these cultists and this GOD DAMNED Apocalypse have now managed to make him slightly peeved! The earth trembles slightly as he snarls, taking in a breath. Then he screams in unbridled rage, and nature screams with him! Every blade of grass. Every flower. Every leaf on a tree. The trees themselves. The earth. The very sky, as it erupts with thunder and lightning! The few animals around them in every direction. Every bit of nature radiating outward for miles around echoes his scream! The total summation of his Alpha Roar! Nature itself joining him in his in it as he seeks to overhand smash the obscene thing before him into paste on the ground. Jacob, free for the moment to move thanks to bucking the thin one that was on him, is able to take in both LJ's apparent heroic sacrifice, as well as Jason's elemental alpha roar--and that's enough for him. When Jacob howls this time, he's not just howling. He's lending his voice in a chorus to Jason's own roar, lending whatever he can of his own alpha status to that outcry of man, beast, and nature in objection to the affront that is these Outsider invaders! If Sly is cheering, this time, it's not possible to hear over the other noise. Jacob Black lets out a bellowing roar of a howl. As Brock gets a fist full of gum or something else gross and doesn't quite stop the attack, it further irritates the lion and makes him start to shake his giant form, while at the same time reaching to the wrapping arm and clawing to peel and pick it much the same way. His solid muscles tense up, bulking at the neck to fight against the constriction all the same. "Well, you're just an annoying bucket of goo, aren't you?" Darius questions of his sparring partner as he rips his hand free, using his elbows, knees and feet in close quarters to deflect the handful of attempts to claw at him. The one claw that seems to find purchase on his jacket doesn't have enough opportunity to inflict a wound, or perhaps his resilience is sufficient with his evasive combat maneuvers to keep him from taking a meaningful hit. Re-evaluating the situation, he remembers that someone had tried throwing them away earlier, and is in the process of considering throwing his opponent away when there is the detonation of un-matter. He needs a trick like that! Dipping a shoulder, he throws himself towards his opponent again, and goes for a deliberately launching strike. So that he can clear some space and help with whatever has happened near their real targets. Oh, and he let's out a very-much-still-a-human yell when the others start howling, not even thinking about how weird it sounds. Naturally, LJ hadn't expected his little blood magic experiment to go well. Mucking about with blood magic rarely does. But what he had not expected was for the blood to already be so thoroughly corrupted that it would not only explode in his veins, but gather to him as if he were some mystical, all-consuming whirlpool. Even so, he senses its effectiveness, and thus the librarian stays put, channeling all of his willpower and magical puissance into containing what could otherwise cause untold horrors. The pain as his body twists and writhes through its stages of corruption is exquisite, and his resulting, echoing scream very quickly is replaced by something entirely alien, screeching, and chaotic--until the cacophony of the following mystical blast consumes him, and his crippled, inhuman form is lost from sight. Yet still, his shadowy magic holds. Until very quickly it is not so shadowy. Like a velvety blanket full of stars, pinpricks of light begin to break through the darkness that contains cultists (or what remains of them) and circle, mere glimmers at first, but what blossom into starry bonfires. There's a rush of heat and light as the shadowy magic of before is burned away, replaced by something unsubtle and pure, glorious and life-giving. It fountains out out from a being at its center--a large, humanoid panther of alabaster fur, who, like a harpist might glide fingers over strings, "plays" that light, purging the area of corruption, and burning away whatever remains that his light can reach. Derek and Brock take the direct approach. In Derek's case, his strikes seem to weaken and liquefy the creature's flesh upon repeated strikes, slowly making it droop and and wobble, until it topples over, twitching, on the ground. From there, it's one very sticky, taffy-like curb-stomping, leaving what's not unlike a long smear of chewing gum along the ground. It takes no end of stomping and striking, but it gets the job done. Similarly, Brock peels and shreds the thin one grappling him until, well, he's just holding a big wad of gunk... that's just kind of quivering against him. It's not at all pleasant, but it's not attacking anymore. As for Darius, he gets in on that launching action, and soon a third of the thin ones is flying through the air, flailing and snarling, to vanish away in the distance. However, the first of the others who was knocked away has made it back, leaving five of the creatures now still standing between the seekers and the ritual. Curiously, the combined alpha roar-and-howl of Jason and Jacob washes over the thin one beside them and, just... seems to sort of cut its strings. The creature goes suddenly limp, splashing forward into a puddle of what can only be called inert liquid flesh, making a sticky splattering noise. Apparently, whatever Derek started his own alpha voice can work for other alphas, too.... And then there's LJ. Taking the darkness into him probably should have killed him, but somehow... it did not. Transformed by some rare, deeply personal part of his power, not unlike the way nature itself roars along with Jason, LJ transforms that darkness within himself, revealing only lights in its place. Whatever deep, special magic allowed him to accomplish it seems nothing short of miraculous... but severe enough that probably, just probably, it's not the kind of stunt to be attempted a second time. Derek takes no inordinate pleasure in the fight, and he moves decisively to get things done as quickly as possible. Once he's taken care of his engagement, he practically throws himself in LJ's direction, stopping with the spectacular effect of light against this corruption. Derek only moves slightly to shield himself from it, but he seems to sense that it isn't likely to affect him. If that tapers off, he'll wander closer, just to be sure. Jason Christopher snarls softly, as nature seems slightly muted following the roar. Which still echoes in the distance. He considers the puddle of the enemy they faced, and then turns to look at what LJ had wrought. A grimly satisfied smirk briefly touching his lips as he contemplated the defenders still between them, and just how pointless they now were. Jason glances at Jacob and smiles, always somehow horrific in this phase, before looking at their enemy. He puts a claw out at them just the same, and does the Bruce Lee style come at me bro hand gesture. Just daring the thin abominations to try. Jacob leaps forward, not hesitating, and bounds after the remaining fleshy thin things. Snarling and growling, he presses the attack as long as any of them are left standing. However, seeing Jason's pose, he makes a particular effort to herd them back toward him and the others. If they can surround them, perhaps it will be easy to finish the remnants all at once! Darius proceeds along with the others, making note of the results of continued hammering, he shakes his head. Hammering yes, de-heading, no? Stupid creatures. Didn't they have any sense for aesthetics about how to die properly? His father would enjoy hearing about this, if they ever met again in this life, and this weren't just the new way of things. He does his best to engage with a few of the remaining thin ones so that the others can do whatever needs to be done with the cultists or their remains and the ritual circle. Hitting them full force, since that seems to be the ticket. The light from the white panther is the very opposite of everything LJ's shadowy magic of before had been--material shadow is now light, radiating a mystical warmth and feeling of essential life that anyone possessed of occult knowledge must know is simply too much energy to be maintained for any real stretch of time. The panther seems to understand this as well, and so in the spirit of which this power was given, he gathers all the light back unto himself, and then releases it in a great wave to wash over all of those assembled, to help rejuvenate any wounds they may have suffered and cleanse any lingering corruption. What is left is LJ's unconscious (but normal-looking), clothes-tattered body, with his journal laying prone at his hip. It must be made of some sturdy stuff. As for Brock, with his own taffy-monster largely dealt with, he drops the goop and quickly bounds to LJ's side after witnessing that frankly miraculous display, checking to make sure the librarian is still alive (he is, mostly), and then easily hoisting the man onto his shoulder and picking up his book, which he emphatically determines to not chew on. He can harass LJ later when the man wakes up. Between Derek, Darius, Jacob, and the others, the remaining thin ones don't last long. Soon enough, there's just kind of a...series of streaks and smears on the ground. LJ's maneuver of light also seems to bolster and strengthen the seekers. The circle where the portal had been is now just a blasted crater, and the massive tentacle... where did it get to, anyway? Then it hits. Literally. If one can envision the ending of the film Ghostbusters, it's a bit like that, only this isn't giant globs of marshmallow falling from the sky. It's more like pallid... something. An inert cross between rancid Jell-o and ectoplasm. The overt corruption has been purged thanks to LJ's sacrifice, but it's still so many heaping piles of wrong that used to be the tendril. And now it's raining down on everyone in massive, gooey globs, coating the whole area nearby. Disgusting. But, at the same time, the mists begin to lift in the area. The way ahead to Curious Goods is clear... and once Riley is informed of how to handle things, the vampire army can begin helping to clear Seattle's streets of the Outsider influence. Even if it's messy as hell. Category:Log